


Tettemilk

by 51PegasiB



Series: Team Player Verse [6]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Animal Play, F/M, Fellatio, Lactation Kink, Non-Consensual Bondage, Restraints, branding (threatened)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 18:21:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6669385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/51PegasiB/pseuds/51PegasiB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy's dream takes her to stable and kitchen as she becomes her master's milk cow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tettemilk

She awoke unable to move her head or her hands. She was bent at the waist, secured in a stock made of iron, staring at a straw-strewn wooden floor. This place was too rough to be anywhere in her master's palace.

Her suspicions were confirmed a moment later by the sound of horses hooves on the wood. The small straw-strewn room must be a stall in the stable. The hooves stopped and a door slammed somewhere nearby. A nearer door creaked open. She strained to see who opened the door, but she couldn't twist her head enough.

There was a light step and long slim legs ensheathed in tall black leather riding boots stepped into her vision.

"Well, gift. I was told you arrived, so I cut my ride short. And here you are..." the boots walked off to one side and she felt a hand trailing down her side and then stroking her belly, which was no longer large with child "...relieved of one burden, and possessed of another." The hand slid up to touch her breasts which were hanging freely beneath her. They felt wrong. Too large and too sore. He flicked one and she cried out.

"Does it hurt?" he asked offhandedly.

"Yes," she whimpered.

He flicked the other and she cried out again. He laughed cruelly. She tried to move away from his hand, but only succeeded in squirming sideways a little bit, her back end apparently being hemmed in by more iron.

"Do not kick me or my servants, gift or I will nail your feet to the floor, do you understand?" he asked.

"Yes, master," she said.

He clapped loudly and a woman in a long dress came in. The hem of the dress that she could see didn't look nearly as fine as her master's clothes. The woman was carrying a stool in one hand and a pail in the other.

He crouched in front of her and brushed her hair back from her face. She heard the stool land on the floor and felt hands greasing her breasts with quick, impersonal touches.

She couldn't look away from his face as the girl started to squeeze milk from her into the pail. The sensation wasn't actually unpleasant. It was a relief, really and the swift, sure pulls began to feel pleasant.

He must have seen the relief on her face. He smiled cruelly.

"This lot will go into the pail and then Gerd here will take you to the kitchen where you'll churn it. For you are both livestock and servant. Isn't that convenient?"

She just stared at him till he yanked her hair.

"Ow!"

"I asked you a question, kyr."

"Yes. Yes, master, I am convenient."

"Once you churn the butter you will eat and drink what is given till I call for you. Make no complaint or justice will come swiftly, for Gerd is under strict orders to deal with you harshly. Do you understand, gift?"

"I understand, master."

"Very well. I leave you. Gerd has charge of you till I call. Obey her as you would me. Or more closely, even, because she does not hold the affection for you that I do."

He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand, then kissed her forehead and strode away.

She stayed still, not daring to speak to Gerd after what her master had said. Gerd hadn't slowed or slackened her movements while she had yelled in pain or when her master had spoken, so either the woman was every bit as imposing as her master had described or Gerd was as under the master's thumb as she herself was.

Gerd finished milking her with curt efficiency, then let her out of the stocks. She stood, hesitantly in the midst of the straw, watching Gerd cover the pail that was full of more milk than Darcy would've thought possible.

"Come on, then," said Gerd. Darcy followed her into the chill evening. Winds blew on her bare skin and she was red all over with the cold by the time she reached the huge kitchen of the palace.

Gerd herded her into a nook along the inner wall, away from the heat of the great stone ovens. She motioned Darcy to stand facing the wall, then wrapped her in an apron that covered her stomach and down to her feet but left her breasts swinging free.

"All right, little cow," she said. She pulled a churn from the corner. It had a protruding wooden handle with a large handgrip. She opened the top and skimmed the cream from the milk in the pail, adding it to the churn. "Take hold of this and you run it up and down, like this," said Gerd, demonstrating brusquely.

Darcy nodded and reached for the handle, but Gerd smacked her hand away. "Not like that. Come here. Squat down over it. She obeyed as Gerd held the full apron aside and Gerd positioned her to settle so that the large wooden handle of the dash pressed against her opening. She was dry and cried out as it slid slowly and painfully inside of her. She winced.

Still holding the long apron aside, Gerd eyed her pussy critically. "Huh. Well, let's see if you can do it this way, or it goes in the rearward hole. Clench and stand, then squat again."

Darcy tightened her muscles against the unyielding wood. It was painful. She was grateful the wood was worn smooth and splinter-less as she stood, trying to hold onto the dash. She succeeded in standing up and squatting back down without letting it fall.

"Good," said Gerd. "Faster, cow. I want to see those tits swing."

Gerd sat and ate some food and drank something from a mug as Darcy kept straining her muscles and working as hard as she could to move her body and the heavy dash up and down as fast as Gerd urged her to. Every time she bent her knees to the fullest, the oblong head of the dash pounded against her cervix. She was sweating and her breasts felt unusually heavy and painful. They did bounce, heavily against the ruffled top of the apron and, after she had been churning long enough that her legs were quaking, even began to seep milk down over the fabric.

Darcy continued to move, the dash becoming harder to move with each stroke. The liquid inside the churn was thickening and her legs were stating to shake with the strain. Gerd had moved on to other things. She was rattling things further down the kitchen, talking with another worker. She took the opportunity to slow and stand still for a moment. The hard wooden handle inside her was still stretching her painfully open and her breasts were starting to ache again. She reached up her hands to cradle them and take some of the weight off and noticed wetness seeping from her nipples.

Darcy closed her eyes and massaged her skin, trying for some relief. There was a shout and something hit one of her hands, leaving it stinging. She cried out and opened her eyes. Gerd picked up the small cheese wheel she had thrown and came up, grimly.

"Falling slack, cow? As long as you've stopped, off of there and let me check the butter."

She stood, again, using her hand to withdraw the dash from herself. She stepped to the side and sank to the floor with quaking legs as the Gerd pulled the lid off the churn and then took it away.

Darcy laid on the stones and clenched her legs together around the soreness of her tender flesh. The chill of the floor got to her and she tried to make the most of her apron, curling the thin fabric around herself. Gerd came back with a couple of largish bowls and slammed them down in front of her onto the floor.

"Eat," said Gerd. "He'll call for you soon."

Darcy dutifully sat and ate herbed bread and fruit preserves and something like yogurt, following it with the sharp, cold water from the second bowl.

In spite of Gerd's words, Darcy had time for a second round of food and drink, shivering on the floor with legs falling numb and tits swollen and aching with their load of milk before a bell rang. Gerd hauled Darcy to her feet, took her apron off and herded her into a corner. She splashed a bucket of water over Darcy. It was so cold, Darcy thought she must be turning blue as Gerd scrubbed her down with a stiff brush.

She then had Darcy stand on a peculiar rolling cart. There were half-circles for her legs to slot into and when she was in place, Gerd locked another piece of wood behind them, making it impossible for Darcy to step away. She slapped Darcy till she leaned down so her breasts were dangling over the cart. She locked Darcy's neck and hands into wooden stocks and then loaded up the wooden surface beneath her with several items Darcy couldn't see. She covered Darcy's head with a hood, obscuring her vision completely and wheeled her away.

The ride was strange. Darcy could tell they were passing by open doorways where people worked and talked, but no one said anything to Gerd.

Eventually, the cart rolled to a stop. Gerd seemed to leave, but she said nothing to Darcy, nor did she take the hood off.

For a time, Darcy heard, saw and felt nothing. Time slipped into a greyness. When she came back to herself, it was to the sensation of a smack to her rear, followed by careless, cool, slim hands pinching her breasts.

She cried out. Her master laughed cruelly.

"Milking time, again. After my tea."

He yanked the hood off of her. He was standing there, eating a crumpet smeared with butter. He held it up as to toast her with it. "So sweet and fresh. What a good little dairy cow you make. Why...I could keep you like this forever, locked in position for breeding and for milking and nothing else."

He ran his hand down her side and over her ass, then up her belly and squeezing one distended breast. She moaned as milk squirted out of her. It was almost a relief.

"But then, who would breed such a sorry cow?" he asked her. "You're not fit to receive me and I wouldn't wish you on my friends. Perhaps it shall be my bull, always, mmmmh? Would you like that?"

Darcy whimpered and shook her head, remembering the sensation like being split apart on the bull's massive member.

His hands moved over her skin and probed into her pussy. "Your head says no, but your dripping quim says yes. You'll take whatever I give you and you'll like it. Because you are my gift."

He stepped over and lit the fire that was already laid in the hearth off to one side. "Please me, or I'll brand you mine for eternity," he said, picking up a heavy iron pole with a symbol like the head of a goat on one end. He thrust it into the base of the fire. "You'll smell your own flesh sear before the pain takes you. Or you can avoid that pain, by serving me, cow."

He stripped out of his clothes and stood before her, regal even when naked, his pale flesh gleaming with reflected fire light. He touched her lips with a finger. "Open."

She obeyed and he slid his swiftly hardening cock between her lips. She tried to make it good, even constrained as she was. She didn't have much range of motion, but sucked and tongued at him with a good will. She tilted her eyes up at him. His eyes were closed, his mouth open in a frozen, silent mask of pleasure.

With one cry of pleasure, he spilled over her tongue and into her throat. "Swallow it," he said. "Don't lose a drop. It's my thanks for your milk to give you mine.

She swallowed, chasing spare droplets at the corner of her mouth with her tongue, hoping she'd satisfied him enough to avoid being branded.

He watched in satisfaction, then, with his own slim fingers, began to pull milk from her breast into a large jug. He filled two of them before he stopped and she was weeping with the relief from the pressure and weight. He unlocked her neck and wrists and allowed her to stand, though her ankles were still restrained.

He put his hand to one of her breasts and lifted it up, then settled his mouth over the nipple, sucking on it, drawing the last of her milk directly into his mouth. She moaned in pleasure as he moved to the other nipple and let out a disappointed sigh as he pulled away.

"Be grateful for tonight's mellow mood, gift," he said. "You'll not always encounter it."

He unlocked her feet and helped her to step down then guided her to a rug in the corner of the grand bedroom where she curled up and fell asleep.


End file.
